


Whatever Remains

by Mimiheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, mentions Harry/Ginny, snarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:19:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiheart/pseuds/Mimiheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?" -- Rose Kennedy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Remains

  
[Whatever Remains](http://www.walkingtheplank.org/archive/viewstory.php?sid=2198) by [Mimiheart](http://www.walkingtheplank.org/archive/viewuser.php?uid=22)  


  
Summary: "Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?" -- Rose Kennedy  
Harry's life is turned upside-down.  
Categories: Fanfiction Characters:  Harry Potter, Severus Snape  
Genres:  Angst  
Spoilers:  TDH  
Warnings:  Character Death, Non-Snarry Pairing, Violence/Torture  
Challenges: None  
Series: None  
Chapters:  1 Completed: Yes  
Word count: 6030 Read: 1645  
Published: Jan 21, 2008 Updated: Jan 21, 2008 

Story Notes:

Written for 2007 Harry Holidays.

Chapter 1 by Mimiheart

The castle seemed impossibly quiet. It had been such a long day. Or week. Or year. Whatever time frame he thought of, it had been long.

Harry rubbed at his scar out of habit. He couldn't believe it was over. He rolled over on the too-soft bed in the too-quiet room, tried not to think of the dead people--friends--in the rooms below him, and closed his eyes. For all his racing thoughts, he fell asleep entirely too quickly.

_He wandered among dead bodies. Red hair, here... who was that? Dirty blond, there... doesn't matter. **Where am I?**_

Harry rolled over in his sleep and whimpered.

_He turned past one row of cloth-draped corpses. Lank, black, greasy hair peeked out under a white sheet. **Oh, there I am.**_

He floated towards the edge of consciousness, but something wouldn't let it take hold.

_**No, Potter, you**_ owe _me this. He grabbed onto the other mind sharing the space with him._

_**What do you want from me?** _

_**Nothing but my freedom. My life.** _

_**How? You're dead. Nagini...** _

_**Shut up, you idiotic....** He paused. **Under my desk is a loose stone. You will find what you need there. There isn't much time left.**_

Harry's eyes snapped open. _What a weird dream,_ he thought.

_It's not a dream. And_ I _am running out of time!_

_Sir?_

_NOW!_

Harry shot out of bed and ran towards Snape's Defence classroom.

_Try again, Potter._

_You could have told me earlier!_

_I'm not really all here. It must be a side effect of inhabiting your brain._

_Haven't I had enough of people sharing my head?_

_Better get to my desk, then._

Harry turned and ran towards the Headmistress's office. A very worn and tired-looking McGonagall met him.

"I need to look under the desk, Professor."

"Surely it can wait until morning."

_Absolutely not._

"Sorry, it's really important."

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Please hurry."

Harry's hands felt each stone under the desk. _You could help me, sir._

_No, I couldn't; I'm not really all here. Just enough..._

Finally he reached one that came up in his hands. Under it was a vial filled with a smoky, blue potion.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry hastily said to Professor McGonagall before rushing back down the stairs.

He made it to the hall where the bodies had been placed.

_Third row, about halfway down on the left._

Harry found the body, and uncorked the vial.

_No. First heal the wounds in my neck._

Harry tried to remember a spell that could possibly help.

A sigh came from inside his head.

_How can you sigh if you can't breathe?_ Harry asked.

_Potter, how you have managed to survive this long with apparently no knowledge of anything not forced into your brain amazes me._ Snape carefully described the wand movements and incantation.

Harry practiced twice before turning towards Snape's still form. He watched in awe as the holes sealed up, no trace of having been there remaining.

_In my robes there should be a small glass jar of pellets. They are an antivenin specific to Nagini's poison. Place one under my tongue before giving me the potion from my office._

Harry shuddered as he touched the dead mouth. He lifted the dry tongue and placed a small, white pellet under it. After uncorking the vial again, he poured the smoky liquid into Snape's mouth.

Shaking, Snape gasped and sat up. "Thank you. I am in your debt."

Harry looked at the too-pale man and helped him off the table. "No, sir, if anything, we're even; you've saved my life far more than this."

Snape muttered something about "overly-noble Gryffindors" under his breath, but acknowledged Harry with a slight tilt of his head.

"Sir, I... thank you. Without you we wouldn't have won."

"I doubt the Aurors and general public will see it that way. Especially after my position for the last year."

"I'll tell them...."

"No. It would be best if they acknowledged me posthumously; I intend to disappear for good now. Even with your word, there are crimes that I committed. And I do not wish to stand trial for them. Farewell, Mr. Potter."

And with that, he flew from the room, leaving a befuddled Harry in his wake.

* * *

Twenty-One Years Later

Harry led Ginny from Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He ignored the tears he saw forming in her eyes. He wouldn't insult her dignity by pointing them out. They had just sent Lily off to Hogwart's with her brothers, and he knew his wife was having a much harder time letting go of her "baby" than she let on.

If Harry were honest with himself, he would admit that he was having a hard time with it, too. As they stood in the middle of King's Cross, he turned Ginny towards him. He looked into her deep, brown eyes, and drew her mouth to his. As their lips met, all hell broke loose. A crash came to his right, and it seemed as if a giant ball of fire swept through the building. He instinctively pushed Ginny to the ground and covered her before losing consciousness.

Harry came to as he was being placed on a stretcher. He tried to sit up, but a hand gently forced him back.

"Sir, you need to stay still."

"Wha' 'appen...?" Harry croaked.

"We don't know, sir. There's been an explosion."

Harry desperately tried to sit up again. "My wife!"

"Sir, please. You're seriously injured. Your wife is around here somewhere. We need to take you to the hospital now."

Harry struggled some more, but his thin grip on consciousness was fading fast. "Take care of her. Take care of Ginny..." he said before sinking back into the darkness.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to a blurry white ceiling. He tried to groan, but found there was something in his throat. Then there was a hand on his head and soothing female voice cooing to him.

"Ssshhh. You've just come out of surgery, and there's a tube in your throat to help you breathe. I've paged the doctor to let him know you're awake, but right now you just need to relax."

He blinked his bleary eyes to try and clear them, but it was no use.

"Sir, please relax."

_Ginny..._

"Ssshhh. Don't try and talk. There's a tube in your throat." She took his hand in hers. "Squeeze my hand, sir."

Harry weakly squeezed.

"Good. Now, squeeze my hand if you are not in any pain."

Harry paused for a moment before squeezing again.

The nurse smiled down at him. "The doctor should be here soon. He'll let you know what he can when he gets here."

Harry squeezed her hand one more time to let her know he heard her, and impatiently waited for the doctor. He had many questions to ask, and people to find. And he wasn't sure how he was going to communicate with this _thing_ in his throat. And whatever he was on to keep the pain away was keeping him from thinking coherently.

He would have jumped if he could when the nurse and a male voice started speaking.

"What is the condition of the patient?"

"He just woke up. He seems a little dazed and frightened. He can squeeze my hand. I assured him that you would be with him soon. Any luck on finding his name or family?"

"Given the condition he was in when he was brought in, I'm amazed he can do that much. I believe we have a match, based on descriptions of missing persons in the blast."

Harry didn't realise his eyes were closed until he was lightly tapped on the face.

"Mr. Potter, I can tell you are conscious. Please open your eyes."

He opened them and would have groaned if he could at the light shining in them.

"Squeeze my hand if you are indeed Harry Potter."

Harry dutifully squeezed.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I am Dr. Felonhop. You have been placed in my care until it is time for your release. You are currently in the Intensive Care Unit. You have severely damaged your lungs, both of your legs have been crushed, and you have second degree burns covering your back. You also have a concussion and numerous bruises and contusions. You will stay on the respirator until I believe your lungs are sufficiently healed."

Harry blinked.

"If you have any questions, the nurse here..."

"Amy," she supplied.

"The nurse, Amy," he growled, "will answer them or send for someone who can. I have much to do today. While you were the worst case that was brought in and survived, you are not the only one on my roster."

And with that, Dr. Felonhop swept from the room.

Amy looked down at him. "I know he's a bit -- abrupt -- but he's the best doctor we have. He works miracles."

Harry wished he could sigh. Instead he just closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

"Please, he's really not up to having any interviews!" Amy was speaking louder than Harry had heard her speak in the past.

"Miss, we have an investigation to complete. And we have the authority to arrest anyone, and I mean _anyone_ who stands in our way," a man's voice responded.

"He can't speak!"

"We have our ways," a different voice answered. "Now, wake him up."

"No."

Harry opened his eyes, curious to see what was going on.

"Never mind, he's up," the first man said, turning his gaze to Harry. "What do you know about the explosion?"

Harry blinked.

"I'm telling you, he can't speak. See the tube coming from his mouth?"

"One more word out of you, missy, and we will take you into custody," said Number Two.

Amy opened her mouth and closed it. She walked to a phone that was on the wall and spoke quietly into the receiver. Harry watched her as best he could without moving his head, but the two men were entirely focused on him.

Number One seemed to be the one in charge, and he started again, "Mr. Potter, is it? Well, we have reason to believe you were a part of the attack, and we need you to tell us all you know about it."

A pen and pad of paper were shoved under his hand. He couldn't move his head to see what he was writing, and he really had no idea what they were talking about. He tried to put a question mark down, but he had no idea if it came out right. The pen and pad fell to the floor.

"Is this a joke, Potter? Tell us what organization you are with."

Harry closed his eyes. Maybe if he feigned sleep they'd leave. He had never thought about how incompetent he was as an Auror. Surely it couldn't be this bad.

"Potter!" A hand tapped his face.

"WHAT are you doing to my patient?" Harry opened his eyes when he heard Dr. Felonhop's angry voice.

"He may have information in regards to the terrorist attack at King's Cross."

"Even if that were so -- which I assure you, it isn't -- he's in no condition to answer your questions right now. And he certainly doesn't need you manhandling him!"

"He was the closest survivor to the blast site. He had no identifying information on him."

"Considering his clothing was incinerated, that's not surprising. However, he is physically incapable of answering any questions. When he has been removed from this unit, you might get medical clearance to speak to him. Until that time, gentlemen, you will _get out_ of my patient's room."

Harry was shocked to see the two men leave, albeit with scowls on their faces.

Dr. Felonhop turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, I apologise. Those two dunderheads should never have made it in here." The man's fingers reached around Harry's hand, though he seemed to be looking more at his monitors than him. "Squeeze if you are in any distress."

Harry lightly squeezed.

"Pain?"

_No._

"The two idiots that shan't be bothering you?"

Harry squeezed.

"Do not concern yourself with them. I am confident that you were not a part of whatever caused this. Your injuries are those of one trying to get out of the way. Not of someone setting something up."

Harry shook his hand free and attempted to mime writing.

"I assure you, you are in no condition to write. However, I can understand that communicating is important. Nurse, can you take notes?"

"Yes, Doctor. And my name is Amy."

"Now, Mr. Potter, I will say each letter of the alphabet in order. When I get to the first letter of the word, squeeze my hand. Understand?"

Harry squeezed. This sounded tedious, and he was getting tired.

Dr. Felonhop started at A. Harry squeezed first on W, then I, then F, then E.

"Your wife? Was she with you at the time of the attack?"

An emphatic squeeze.

"I will attempt to find out what I can. I've also sent for a social worker for you. They should be some help. Now, you need to rest."

Harry had to agree with him. He closed his eyes and slept.

* * *

"Harry. If you are awake you need to squeeze my hand."

Harry was getting tired of hand-squeezes being his only means of communication.

"Okay, I felt that twitch. C'mon, squeeze. There's someone here to see you."

Harry tried to sigh, remembered he couldn't, and dutifully squeezed.

"Thank you, Amy. Could you be so kind as to step out? This could be rather delicate. I promise I'll get you if he needs you."

"Open your eyes, please, Harry. I want to make sure you aren't in any pain before I leave."

Harry was, but he really didn't want to be out of it for this meeting. Maybe he would finally get some answers. After assuring the nurse as best he could, he heard the gentle _click_ of the door shutting. He turned his blurry gaze to the woman who had pulled a chair next to his bed.

"Oh, Harry."

He blinked.

"I suppose I should be professional about this. Dr. Felonhop called me in because he knows I generally deal with patients who are wizards or Squibs. Or people who are dealing with issues with accidental magic in their home. Anyhow, with this attack happening on the day the Hogwarts Express was leaving...," she paused, "Well, I've been overworked, and trying to get transfers to St. Mungo's is proving more difficult than usual."

He blinked.

"I'm sorry I'm rambling. There's just quite a bit to say." She seemed to notice the look of confusion on his face. "Oh! I'm sorry. Harry, it's Susan Bones. We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

Harry started to recognise her voice, but they weren't exactly close in school, and it had been a while.

"The good news is that your children all made it to school without any difficulty. The people on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters were spared, as were all of the children on the train."

Harry let a tear escape. _He was the closest survivor to the blast site._ The words spoken by the investigator earlier echoed in his head.

"Harry, the Muggle treatment that was started, especially on your legs.... It's not very conducive to magical healing later. Apparently, they put some sort of man-made metal in your legs to get them straight again. I spoke with Dr. Felonhop, and he doesn't think there's much hope for a removal with a Skele-Gro. He also says that he knows more about Potions than he does regular Mediwizardry."

Harry looked at her (as best he could without his glasses) impatiently.

"I know... it's just. Harry... Ginny didn't make it. A piece of shrapnel from the explosion pierced her head. She... It was quick."

Harry was fighting the respirator. _Fuck_ deep, even breathing. He wanted to scream, he needed to. And the tears rolled down his face, because he couldn't scream and fight and punch. And even if he could, he didn't know what there was _to_ fight.

"Harry, please. Calm down." Susan dashed to the door. "Amy!"

Amy came in and added something to one of the IVs. She put a cool hand on Harry's head. "Ssshhh, Harry, please, focus on me." Susan grabbed one hand while Amy held the other. Amy took a tissue and gently brushed away Harry's tears. "Ssshhh. Ssshhh."

Whatever had been pushed into the IV was working. The pain, which he didn't notice until it wasn't there any more, stopped, and he felt very far away, as if he were out of his body.

"That's it, Harry."

_She's gone. Oh, Ginny._

Harry lost the battle with consciousness with the tears still rolling down his cheeks.

* * *

"Well, it seems your lungs are getting stronger. I'm going to adjust the respirator so that you have the control, not it. If you take too long to breathe, it will force you to. Otherwise, you may breathe as often as necessary," Dr. Felonhop said as he adjusted the machine.

Harry had been mostly unresponsive the last few times he had been awake. Susan had been back to try and talk to him; however, he simply didn't care.

"If you do well breathing over the machine, I'll take the tube out tomorrow."

Harry stared at a spot on the ceiling he couldn't see.

"I'm not one for positive-thinking mumbo-jumbo, but if you do not stop sulking, it will take you much longer to heal."

Harry continued to stare. _Go away. I don't care if I heal._

"Ms. Bones tells me that you have three children. If you wish to be so selfish that you won't be healed enough to see them at Christmas -- their _first_ Christmas without their mother -- perhaps you are simply a selfish, arrogant child.

"I certainly won't allow them to visit you until I am sure they actually _have_ a father. Even if Ms. Bones thinks it would do you and them well. You are not the first person to lose a spouse. You weren't the only one to lose a spouse in this attack. And here you are, brooding in your own self-pity. Quite frankly, you're a coward."

_That_ hit a chord. _**GO AWAY!**_

Dr. Felonhop slammed into the wall--barely managing to avoid crashing against various machines and a panic button.

"Oh, there _is_ some life in you, Mr. Potter. Unlike the nurses and therapists, I don't mind being the bad guy. And apparently, that's all you respond to." And with that, Dr. Felonhop swept from the room.

The tears ran down Harry's face again. Amy, who had quickly become his favorite nurse, stepped back into the room. He didn't remember her leaving.

"The doctor just told me that if you're breathing fine tomorrow, you can get off the respirator. That's great. And don't tell him I told you, but he said as soon as it was out, you could have visitors." She wiped the tears from his face. "Susan said as soon as you're able, she has some letters for you."

* * *

Harry had gotten used to not speaking. Blinking and squeezing his responses had become second nature to him. So when the nurse told him his throat would be sore after having the tube down it, and that he should avoid talking for a little bit, he didn't really think much of it. He was more than happy not having to answer questions. He really didn't think he was up to talking to anyone, anyhow.

He was certainly not prepared for a bawling mother-in-law. She wanted to hug him, but the nurse explained that there was really nowhere for her TO hug. She eventually settled on holding his hand and brushing the hair from his face. She also brought a pair of wizarding glasses that adjusted to correct his vision without prompting.

Eventually when he continued to not respond to her sobs, apologies, and words of comfort, she laid a soft kiss on his forehead and said she'd be back later.

Her departure was swiftly followed by Dr. Felonhop's arrival. "What is the matter with you, man? That woman has lost her only daughter, and two other members of her family are in other hospitals. And all you can do is lie there? I thought that perhaps you had snapped out of your pity party, but it seems you are just as selfish as before. If that woman comes back, you should treat her with the respect due to the matriarch of your family."

Harry peered through his new glasses at the doctor.

Black eyes stared back at him. "You failed the test. You are not capable of handling visitors yet. All you would do is hurt those who care about you most."

Harry clenched his jaw shut.

"What, nothing to say for your abhorrent behaviour? I'd expect this from a schoolboy, not an adult."

_You don't understand!_

"Don't I?" His eyes bored into Harry's.

_Snape!_

"Amazing! You got it in one, Potter."

Harry turned his head away from the other man's glare.

"That's right, go ahead and pout."

* * *

"Harry, please. Your doctor has finally agreed to let you have visitors. But I agree with him about the kids. You're not going to do them any good like this."

Harry thought that if Neville tried any harder, he'd be on his knees next to the bed. He stared at the wall where a pattern at been formed out of swirling paint. Sometimes he could even make it look like a Snitch.

"They're talking about releasing you into the psych ward at St. Mungo's. I grew up watching my parents in there. Don't do that to your kids!

"They just lost their mother. They shouldn't have to lose you, too."

Harry wouldn't let Neville know he heard him. He wouldn't let that tear escape from the corner of his eye. And he wouldn't turn his head to watch Neville leave the room or shake his head at the nurse. He almost didn't turn when he heard the slightly cracking voice of his son.

"Dad?"

Harry looked into Albus's green eyes, but wasn't able to keep himself from gasping when the boy launched himself at his battered body. Thankfully, he realized what he did rather quickly, and started to apologise.

"I'm sorry, I just... and they said I couldn't see you. But I heard Neville say he was coming and I snuck behind him at the Floo. And I followed him here. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are getting out of their hospitals tomorrow. I miss your letters, and Grandma said that you were really hurt...."

Harry grabbed his son around the waist and pulled him closer to the bed. "Ssshhh. I'm here. I'm sorry I haven't written. I haven't been myself lately," Harry rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse and the recently removed tube.

Albus started crying, and Harry pulled him down into the most comfortable position possible. "Don't leave me, Daddy," he said in a voice much too small for his age.

"I'm not going anywhere, Al. I'm the Boy Who Lived, again and again and again, remember?"

Laughing through his tears, Albus nodded against Harry's shoulder.

"See if you can figure out how to lower that stupid bar."

Albus looked at the bedrail, jiggled it a bit, and pulled it down. Harry hid his wince as he moved over as best he could to make way for his little boy who had suddenly become incredibly tall. Harry's arm wrapped around him as he sobbed into Harry's shoulder. Harry ignored the pain and the increased difficulty he was having breathing, and held his son. Albus had soon cried himself out, to sleep or almost to sleep, Harry couldn't tell. Harry let himself drift off, too.

* * *

"Oh, so you thought you could pull one over on us, did you, Potter?"

Albus jumped out of his father's arm and onto the floor as they were both startled awake.

"You're a paedophile on TOP of being a terrorist."

"What?" Harry croaked, trying to think through the fog of sleep, drugs, and the pain.

"Get out of here, boy," the investigator addressed Albus.

Albus looked to Harry, who nodded. "But, Dad..."

"Go on, get Dr. Felonhop."

"But they think you..."

"Go!" Harry was as forceful as he could be.

"Now, what were you doing to that boy?"

Harry tried to clear his throat. "He's my son. He's just lost his mother, and I haven't been up to seeing people. He needed comfort."

"And you were providing him with that 'comfort'?"

"He's my son!"

"I know your type. Was the attack part of your paedophile ring?"

"Please. I just lost my wife. My son is grieving. I've never once hurt that boy. I never would."

"We'll see about that. Have you ever heard of 'truth serum', Mr. Potter?"

Harry wanted to laugh.

"Well, it hasn't quite been perfected. But I think you're weak-willed enough that it will work." The investigator took something out of his pocket.

Before Harry could react, something was jabbing him in the side.

"That shouldn't take long to work." The man smirked.

Harry felt like his tongue was swelling to the size of a Bludger in his mouth. _Snape, where are you? Please, I can't die now. Albus and James and Lily need me._

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"Hmmmhmmm."

Harry heard alarms go off from his monitors, just as he heard Albus, Amy, and Snape come rushing through the door with a security guard.

"What did you do to him?" Snape grabbed the man and threw him at the guard. He lifted a syringe off the floor and smelled the tip. He was shouting things at Amy, but Harry knew he was safe. He just needed to rest his eyes for a bit....

* * *

Harry fought with his eyelids and looked around the room. It was like magic, the way it had changed.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Potter."

"Wha... where?"

"You've been unconscious for nearly a week. Your children were afraid they lost you." Snape gestured with his hands at a plush chair near Harry, where Lily was sleeping curled up next to James. In a chair on his other side Albus was curled into a ball and snoring slightly.

Harry couldn't seem to get his limbs to respond. He wanted desperately to hold them.

"They were about to sack me for my handling of that muttonheaded baboon they call an investigator. And then they were going to put you in a prison hospital. So I _Obliviated_ the lot of them, made you stable enough for transport, and took you to my home. It appears that once again, I am on the run, thanks to you."

He held a cup and straw to Harry's dry mouth, and Harry drank greedily.

"However, also thanks to you and your Aurors, I am no longer on the run in the wizarding world." He tipped his head in acknowledgement.

"You never should have been in the first place," Harry rasped.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I needed a clean break from this world."

"Running away isn't the answer."

"Hmph. Says the man who refused to speak for two weeks."

"It didn't feel that long."

Snape decided it was time to change the subject. "Are you in any pain."

Harry thought for a minute. "My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton. And my legs... well, they're at about a six on a scale of one to ten. My back feels fine, though."

"Once away from the Muggles, I was able to do a magical healing on your back and lungs. However, by the time I found you in surgery, it was too late for your legs."

Harry turned away.

"Back to that are we?"

"It's just..."

"Mr. Potter, for the past sixteen years I have been handling cases like yours. People with severe traumas: Gunshot wounds, accident victims, burn victims. I know right now it seems like all is lost. But I know what the surgeon did for you, and what I've done magically since then to help.

"You _will_ walk again. They will take time to heal, and you may feel pain in your legs -- maybe forever. But you still have them.

"I will not have you in my house sulking and carrying on. You need help and medical care right now. I understand that, but in order to get it from me, you will not sulk, pout, or carry on. If not for my sake or your own, for them." Snape gestured to the children.

Harry nodded solemnly.

"I have a potion for the pain. You will tell me if it is above a four."

"Yes, sir."

"And no cheek."

Snape handed him a vial. Harry dutifully swallowed.

"Thank you.

"Get some rest. They'll be up in a few hours, and will want to know you awoke."

Harry nodded again, and turned his head to sleep. He almost thought Albus winked at him before he drifted off, the pain draining from his legs and head.

* * *

"But, Dad, it doesn't matter if we're here or at school. We're getting our work done!"

"And you're underfoot, and not in lessons -- and don't tell me it's the same, James. And the sooner we return to 'normal' life the better."

"It's not fair."

"Life is not spelled f-a-i-r. I'm an owl or a fireplace away. Rose misses you guys. And Hugo is lost without you, Lily, you know that?"

Lily giggled.

"Now, go. Grandma is waiting for you."

They all gave him one last hug before dashing to their grandmother's open arms. She smiled at Harry and led them to the fireplace.

Harry sank back into the chair and let out a huge sigh. It had only been three days since he had awoken.

"What on earth possessed you to name that boy 'Albus Severus'?" Snape's voice cut through the silence.

"I don't know. I knew when I first held him in my arms that he was different from James. He had this spark, something I couldn't identify. He needed names that were strong enough for him, so I named him after the two strongest men I knew."

Snape snorted.

"My turn. Why, and how, did you change your -- appearance -- so? I wouldn't have recognized you had you not pulled that Legillimency stunt on me."

"You can say, 'Nose,' I don't bite. I had Muggle plastic surgery. I wanted to disappear. It was easiest to change my most distinguishing feature. My hair became less greasy the less I worked with potions. My hair turned grey of its own accord."

Harry, who had some grey at his temples, smiled.

"Now, you need to rest."

"I'm _tired_ of resting."

"No whinging." Snape put one arm under the casts on Harry's legs, and the other behind his back. He gently lifted him and carried him to the bed. Harry's eyes were closed before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

" **You will NOT undo all of my work by screaming and throwing a fit, Harry Potter. It's a dream, wake up!** "

Harry was thrashing on the bed, kicking as best he could with the cumbersome casts on his legs. Snape was using his entire weight to keep Harry from falling out of the bed and injuring himself further.

"It's a dream. It's a dream!"

Harry screamed and sobbed as Snape brought him to his chest and rocked him.

"It's a dream, Harry, just a dream."

"Dream?" Harry sounded more like he was ten than thirty-seven.

Snape stroked his hair. "Just a dream."

"She's dead."

"Ssshhh."

The next morning, Harry couldn't remember how he had ended up in Snape's arms during the night. He just knew the warm, safe feeling he had was completely foreign to him. He also knew he didn't want it to end.

And he never could figure out how it kept happening. Or when 'Snape' and 'Mr. Potter' became 'Severus' and 'Harry'. And he found he didn't care.

* * *

"Severus, I don't know if I can go back there."

"It's Christmas. Your children are getting off the Hogwarts Express, and you will be there to meet them."

"But... I..."

Snape took Harry's face in his hands and forced their eyes to meet. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course! But I..."

"No buts. We will Apparate to the platform. I have secured a Portkey for all of us to use to return. You will have no need to go into the Muggle areas. And I will not leave you alone, you have my word."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And no cheek."

Harry Apparated, wheelchair and all, to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Severus right beside him.

"Breathe, Harry," Severus whispered in his ear. Harry took a deep breath in.

The train had apparently just arrived, and students started to pour out. Harry looked at Severus. _Too many people._

"Don't worry. There are your goblins now."

James, Lily and Albus dashed to their father and gave him crushing hugs.

Harry smiled at them. "Do you all have your trunks?"

"Yes, Dad!" they answered in unison.

Severus took out the Portkey. As soon as all hands were on it, they were whisked away back to what had become Severus and Harry's home.

* * *

It was the day before the children were to go back to Hogwarts for second term, and they were all sitting before the fireplace. Harry was sharing tales from his days at Hogwarts, and Severus was telling them _his_ interpretation of events.

"And Albus seemed actually think that your father would have willingly put himself in the spotlight for an international competition he knew next to nothing about!"

"Why wouldn't you have?" James couldn't grasp the idea.

"Really, James, sometimes self-preservation is a useful skill. Isn't it, Dr. Felonhop?" Albus couldn't seem to believe that anyone would _want_ to risk their lives in that way.

"Dad?" Lily spoke up.

"Yes, hon?"

"Do you miss Mum?"

"Your mum was my everything until you three came along. Then you shared that place in my heart. When..." He took a deep breath. "When she passed, a little bit of me went with her."

"Is it bad that I can't see her face sometimes? I have to look at a picture to see her." Lily's voice was almost impossible to hear.

Harry smiled sadly at his youngest child. "No, sweetie. It's not bad at all. And how lucky we are that we have pictures. And memories. And wherever she is, she still loves us. And we can all still love her."

A warm hand on Harry's back steadied him.

"Okay, kids, time for bed. It's back to school in the morning with you."

James and Lily padded up the stairs, but Albus stayed behind.

"Dad, I just want you to know. I think Mum would want you be happy."

"I think you're right." Harry smiled and opened his arms for a hug.

* * *

"I can't, it hurts too much."

"You _can_ do it, Harry. I won't let you fall."

Harry was holding himself up with his hands on two bars, and dragging one foot in front of the other. He had made it to three steps so far today. Which was three steps more than he had been able to do all week. Tears were streaming down his face. As he put down his foot for the fourth step, his leg collapsed under him, and strong arms kept him from falling to the floor.

"I've got you."

Harry shook in Severus's arms. A long-fingered, pale hand came up and wiped the tears away.

"I've got you," Severus repeated.

Harry looked up at Severus, and Severus leaned down. Harry couldn't say there were sparks when their lips met. But warmth spread through him. _I'm safe._

"You're safe. I've got you."

_Forever?_

Their lips met again, and Harry felt his breath being stolen from him.

"At least that long."

Harry rested his head on Severus's shoulder. "I think I want to go to bed now."

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

Harry was scooped up in Severus's arms, and Severus laid a gentle kiss on Harry's scar.

  
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